Michael
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: What a coincidence...
1. Chapter 1

**_For Changhenge :) xx_**

**_Hope you can bear with me, Chryed will be appearing soon... ;)_**

* * *

Michael could hear snoring. He didn't think it could be his own snoring, because the stabbing pain in his head and the vinegary taste in his mouth would seem to mean he was awake. He cautiously opened one eye and peered to his left. A mound lay beside him, huddled under most of the bed clothes. Propping himself up on one elbow, he tentatively pulled back the corner of the duvet and saw an ear, with a large black spacer inserted into the lobe. Resisting the urge to put his finger through it, he looked in confusion at the loose dark curls that flopped across the bristling stubble of someone's jaw.

Shivering, he slipped across the bed and stood up, swaying precariously. He winced at the pain in his body and stepped over a discarded condom packet, musing to himself;

'I seem to have had a good night..'

He grimaced as he entered the vast open plan living area of his flat. Wintry afternoon sunlight reflected off the rusting Gas Works beyond his window, sending jagged shadows across the dark wood floor. Yawning loudly, he made for one of the kitchen cupboards. The ease with which the red lacquered door opened at the gentlest of touches, still delighted him as much as it had on the day the builders finally finished his refurbishments, leaving him all alone in his perfect bachelor flat.

He pushed at the shiny chrome tap and watched the water gush into his glass. Gazing out beyond the twin towers of the gas holders, across the jumble of roofs and windows to the shiny ribbon of the Thames, he gulped the water down, shuddering with relief as he felt himself slowly re-hydrate.

A faint thud behind him made him swing around in alarm, spilling liquid down his chest.

"What the..?"

Something was moving on the long white leather sofa, under the fluffy grey blanket. It rippled alarmingly, sending more cushions plopping on to the rug.

Michael frowned.

'Did I have a really, REALLY good night?' He wondered.

A blonde, female, head appeared, and a blotchy face turned to peer at him, mascara smeared under the eyes.

"Hello! You look like a Zombie."

He refilled his glass and turned to lean against the mahogany work top, smiling fondly at her.

"And you look like a fucking Greek God, you bastard."

She flopped back, knocking her head on the armrest.

"Cheers. What did we get up to last night?" Michael asked.

The woman groaned and stared at the ceiling.

"I'm not sure. There was dancing, drinking, lots of drinking, bucket loads, dancing." She gagged slightly. "Vomiting. Some of that. I recall a toilet bowl. And when I came back you had what's his name stuck on you like a limpet."

"Ah yes. Any idea what what's his name is called?"

She twisted onto her front and looked at him quizzically with bloodshot eyes.

"I dunno. Not even sure what my name is.."

"Simone." He told her helpfully.

She surveyed him, lounging nonchalantly, gloriously naked, and sighed.

"I wish it were Simon. Did he say he was Italian? Guido, or Luigi? Roberto? Ricardo? You know who he looks a bit like though. Bloody hell, It's all coming back to me now, we were at school before the club, there was cheap fizzy wine. Tell me it was a nightmare, tell me that you and Syed aren't really both gay." She whimpered sadly.

"Except I know for sure that you are, if all those noises from your bedroom last night were anything to go by. But Syed? Beautiful, funny, sweet, sensitive, Syed Masood? Please tell me it's a wind up."

Michael put his glass carefully into the sink, recalling the tall man emerging from the shadows, staking his claim on Syed with a sensuous touch.

"Have you forgotten his rather magnificent boyfriend?"

Simone pulled the blanket over her head.

"The man in black, the living, breathing embodiment of sex. My life is shit."

"Awwww. Budge up..."

He came to sit with her, shifting her to the back of the sofa with a push of his buttocks. He pulled the cover away from her face and ruffled her hair fondly.

"…A bright, smart party girl like you. City high flyer. You can have your pick of men."

She took in the sight of him, eyelids only slightly puffy from the excesses of the night before, startling blue eyes ringed with black, the perfect straight nose. She wanted to stroke the dark shadow of stubble on his cheek, lick the Celtic tattoo that twined around his bicep, run her hand over the short black crop, kiss his full soft lips.

" Sweaty old business men in suits. That's who comes on to me. Or spotty teenagers. You've got a girls mouth you know."

Michael retrieved a cushion from the floor and made as if to smother her with it.

"Cheeky cow. Stick with me, I'll find you someone nice."

"Nice? Whoopee. No, I'm having a sex change. Finding out two of my girlhood loves are both gay has scarred me forever. Find me a sausage, I'm fashioning myself a cock."

Michael laughed.

"Better make it a big one. You'll need some sort of winch and pulley contraption as well. You really had no idea?"

Simone shook her head gloomily.

"Nope."

Something occurred to her, causing a small spasm to contract her heart.

"So that time, at Jimmy's party, when Syed drank his body weight in Coke and you snorted yours. When he ran off home early and I went to you crying.."

Michael stayed silent and she continued;

"..And we did it in the garden, I hit my head on the compost bin and the lid fell on us. It was a full moon. Did that mean nothing to you?"

He gently stroked her cheek with his finger.

"Of course it meant something Simone. It was important, special.."

She studied his eyes and frowned.

"You can't remember it, can you?" She snarled accusingly.

He gave a little wicked grin and looked down, guilt making him look like the naughty school boy he had been.

"Errm. Are you sure it was me? OW!"

Dodging her flailing fists, he laughed and jumped up. Strolling over to the Gaggia coffee machine, shining expensively beside the Smeg fridge, he called;

"I've no doubt it was wonderful though. Coffee?"

"It was crap and disappointing, over in minutes." She lied huffily.

Michael paused as he put in the fresh coffee, and raised his eyebrows.

"Surely not! Wasn't me then. Do you want sugar?"


	2. Chapter 2

Simone received the cup from Michael gratefully.

"Lovely.." She took a sip, sighing delightedly and looked around for somewhere to put it down.

"Michael, this place is vast. Do you have anything as practical as a table? Or do you press a button and one pops up out of the floor?"

"Now that's a plan. Here.."

He went to bring her over a small, see through, Perspex table from the far corner of the room and she allowed herself to leer at his arse as he walked away.

Placing the cup down, she kicked the blanket off and sat up slowly, rubbing her forehead before gazing in amazement at her feet.

"My shoes! Michael I slept in my shoes! Why didn't you take them off for me?" She berated him.

He pondered the question mildly.

"I gave you a wonderful, snuggly, cashmere blanket, that I hope you haven't dribbled on. Guido, Luigi, Roberto, Ricardo was very insistent that he needed to do things to me in the bedroom, so count yourself lucky. Plus, we could have just left you weeping in the gutter, wailing about all fit men being homosexual."

"Thanks a bunch." She groped around beneath the sofa and retrieved her handbag, opening it to take out a small mirror.

"Oh God, look at the state of me." She licked her finger and began to rub furiously at the smeared mascara under her eyes.

"You look fine." Michael lied charmingly.

"Oh fuck off." She closed her bag with a snap.

"Can you put some clothes on? Your splendid nudity is rather rubbing it in."

"Isn't the fact that I'm not rubbing it in the problem?"

He returned to sit beside her and patted her knee companionably.

"You've got a ladder in your tights." He observed.

"Ladder to heaven." She muttered.

"Or hell. Shall I get you a cab?"

"I'll get my own, thanks. My firm's got an account. Have I got time to finish my drink, or are you desperate to get back to your 'Syed Lite'?"

Michael considered for a moment, wishing he could remember if the boy in his bed was worth getting back to. He realised he was quite enjoying having Simone around, her familiarity a small link with the past, with Syed.

"Stay as long as you like, honey. Where is it you live again?"

"Penge." She waited for him to say something derogatory, forming the words in her head to leap to Penge's defence, but he merely smiled absently and said;

"Oh. Is that south of the river?"

They sat in silence for a while until he added;

"Syed lives in the East End. Not that far from here…."

"Will you see him again?" Simone asked kindly. Not wishing to appear needy, she managed to refrain from adding; 'and can I come?'

Michael shrugged sadly.

"Doubt it. Don't think that beefcake boyfriend would be too impressed. He nearly broke my hand shaking it yesterday, and he was emitting death rays from those rather gorgeous eyes…"

"Mmm…Did anything ever happen between you and Syed? At school?"

Simone wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer, but her curiosity was getting the better of her.

She saw the blue of Michael's gaze darken slightly, sensed the regret in the slight shift of his body.

He pulled a sad face.

"Nah, not really. I tried once, but I scared him off. He was terrified of being gay, hated it apparently. His religion forbids it."

"Does it? I never knew that…"

Michael settled back further into the sofa.

"Why would you? You always were pretty shallow.."

"HA!" She prodded him in the ribs, outraged.

"Me shallow?" She waved her arm around. "What about you with all this designer stuff.."

She pointed at the giant plasma television on the exposed brick wall opposite them.

"I bet that's 3D too."

He flushed slightly.

"Nooo. The glasses don't suit me."

"I rest my case. So what made Syed decide he was glad to be gay?"

"I'm not sure he'd describe it like that, but he told me he fell in love, real, proper, intense love. Love you can't deny."

Michael felt his eyes mist with tears and blinked them away. Noticing, Simone took his hand.

"Do you think that will happen for us?" She asked in a small voice.

"You and me? Not together, obviously.."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Duh, obviously. Wouldn't you like to feel that strongly for someone?"

"Nah. Not while there's Tom, Dick and Luigi's that I haven't fucked yet. Do you want a fry up? I think I've got bacon.." He got up hastily, eager to change the subject.

"I'd better go. It's Sunday, right?"

Michael nodded.

"I believe so."

"I've got an important breakfast meeting tomorrow, influential clients. I need about twenty hours sleep to get rid of all the alcohol we put away.."

She pressed a button on her Blackberry and barked into it.

"Cab on account 3236 for Bristwick and Turpin. Going to Penge.." She placed her hand over the phone and mouthed;

"Where am I?" to Michael.

"73 Rampton's Wharf, Shadwell."

She repeated this to the cab office and stood up, fussing with her hair.

"They'll be about five minutes, I'll wait outside. It's been a blast. Don't be a stranger."

She kissed him briefly on the cheek, pushing herself away from his proffered hug, already clicking back into her corporate life.

"Don't get those dangly bits near me." She warned him.

Michael smiled ruefully.

"That's not what you used to say."

Simone grinned back at him.

"Onwards and upwards. Me, that is, not your cock. Call me."

"Add me on Matesgate."

* * *

Michael stood in front of the bathroom mirror and stared glumly at himself. He couldn't get the image of Syed walking away from him out of his head. Could still see him, arm in arm with the man he loved, leaving for the home they shared together. He began to wonder what they would have talked about on the way home, if they had mentioned him. And when they had got back to their flat above the chippy that Syed had spoken so fondly of, would they have got a takeaway? Watched a film? Made love?

The mental image of them, rolling on crisp white sheets, the strong muscular body wrapped around Syed's lithe limbs, his golden eyes black with lust.

Michael moaned and pressed himself against the cold marble of the wash stand.

'Time to get re acquainted with what's his name.' He decided.

* * *

His guest seemed to have woken, and was sitting up in bed reading some of Michael's porn.

"Alright." he mumbled as Michael came through the door.

In the darkness of the club, and after countless drinks, the man had seemed infinitely desirable. Now Michael noticed that, although if you squinted a bit, or rubbed Vaseline in your eyes, he had a look of Syed about him, he was nowhere near as beautiful. The hair was similar, the build the same. But his eyes were narrow and cold, mouth tight and pinched.

"Alright.."

'Sod it, what's he called?' Michael sought around desperately in his memory for a clue, deciding to plump for one of Simone's suggestions.

"..Luigi."

The man pouted and said prissily.

"It's Nigel actually, big boy. But you can call me Luigi If you like."

Michael slid under the covers next to him and thought of Syed.

"No, Nigel's fine. For now."


	3. Chapter 3

"Thank you….Maurice?"

Michael bent to kiss the man in the doorway.

"Robin. I've left my number, if, you know.."

Michael watched as he soundlessly crossed the luxuriously carpeted corridor and pressed the lift button. He turned and waved, a little, hopeful gesture. Michael winked and shut the door, leant heavily against it, and sighed.

'Bee Gees, I picked the wrong one.' He chided himself, wondering if he was ever going to manage to get any of his conquests names right, and also surprised as to why he would know what any of the brothers Gibb were called.

'My dad's fault, force feeding me too much Saturday Night Fever as a child.'

Thinking about the boy's dark hair and slim body, he was also concerned that, almost two weeks since the school reunion, he was still pulling men that reminded him of Syed.

He picked up the scrap of paper that Robin had optimistically wedged behind the teapot and crumpled it in his hand, expertly lobbing it into the waste paper basket.

"And he scores!"

Wrapping his dressing gown a little tighter, he rubbed sleep deprived, bleary eyes, hunting around for the remote to turn on the music system.

"Tunes in every room. I'm smooth.. Smooth as a smooth thing."

He went to press a button to select a track and jumped as the remote control rang.

"Fuck!"

Frowning at the small black glowing square in his hand, it slowly dawned on him that he had picked up his phone by mistake.

'Too much drinking and casual sex addling my brain..'

"Michael O'Riordan."

"Michael, it's Tim. Are you pissed?"

Michael swayed slightly and tried to make his voice sound crisp, clear and sober.

"Tim! Hello! Your number didn't show up.."

"Batteries dead. I'm ringing from the 'Hiya!' office. I need to talk to you about Naples."

"It's still on, isn't it?"

Michael slumped nervously onto the sofa and bit at his thumbnail.

"Yes, but. Look, I can't really talk now. Come into the office this afternoon. There's some contracts I need you to sign. I've left messages Michael, what, or who, have you been up to?"

"I've been busy.." Michael chirped brightly.

'Busy banging ghosts…'

* * *

"For God's sake Michael, stop prowling around and sit down."

Tim ran his fingers through what was left of his hair in exasperation.

Michael slumped into the leather swivel chair, secretly hoping it might make a funny farting noise as the air leaked from the plush cushion. He tittered childishly as it did. Tim rolled his eyes and handed him a contract.

"Here, put your autograph on this. I've got you top whack, but there's a bit of a problem…"

Michael pulled a pen from the pot beside him, almost knocking over a framed photo of Tim's wife and daughters in the process. His eyes narrowed.

"A problem?" He asked, his tone low and dangerous, he could feel a hissy fit coming on.

"Don't stress. It's just been put back a bit. Three weeks, that's all…"

Tim picked up a paper clip and began to unbend it, waiting for the storm.

"Three weeks?" With panic, Michael remembered his huge credit card bill, the payment already overdue.

"Fuck, shit, bollocks. WHY?"

Tim calmly prised the pen from Michaels grip, aware that he was about to snap it in two.

"Tatiana's filming has over run, so she won't be available until then."

"She couldn't act her way out of a paper bag. Why doesn't the silly cow stick to what she's good at, wearing clothes and pouting prettily…"

He slumped theatrically onto the desk, head clutched in his hands.

'Maybe you should try drama.' Tim thought peevishly.

"Calm down. I can get you something to tide you over, maybe some modelling…"

Michael lifted his head and scowled.

"Okay, okay. Anyway with those dark circles under your eyes, I'd need to send you to a health farm first.."

Tim began to tap at the laptop on his desk, ignoring Michael's grunt of;

"Fuck you."

"I heard about a potential offer this morning, if you're interested. They're missing an assistant on a shoot tomorrow.."

"Assistant?"

Michael threw himself back in his chair in disgust, almost tipping himself out of it.

"It's good money. Oh.."

"Oh what?"

"Aaah."

"Spit it out."

"It's assisting Geoff Boyle."

Michael spluttered with rage.

"That pervy old twat? Can't he assist me?"

"Michael, good as you are, you haven't quite got the same clout as someone who's been doing it for.."

"Fucking centuries…Oh what the hell, if he touches me, I'll thump him. What's it for?"

Tim pressed the print key and waited for the details to appear.

"Fashion shoot for 'Hiya!' Some reality show fauxmance couple."

"Where is it?"

Michael sulkily snatched the papers from Tim's hand, knowing he was behaving like a Prima Donna but unable to stop himself.

"The East End. Walford."


	4. Chapter 4

"Mikey, darling! What was the light reading again?"

Michael grumpily thrust the meter in front of Geoff's face, muttering under his breath.

"I've told you three times, you stupid old bastard."

Geoff glanced up from changing the lens.

"What's that, lover?"

"I wondered if you wanted me to alter the colour gel on the light, warm it up a bit…"

Michael could almost hear the cogs turning in Geoff's brain, working out how he could make it his idea.

"Good boy. I was waiting for someone to suggest that. Get Natasha to do it.. Natasha!"

The beleaguered second assistant bustled up, flashing a look of pure hate as she passed Michael. A young woman with bright pink hair and a look of steely determination, Michael knew she was fuming inside that she had set up the whole shoot, arranged the location, sorted the equipment, and he had just swanned in at the last minute to earn twice as much money just by fiddling with a few lights. He made a mental note to try and get her on a shoot with him in the future, make up for stealing her big chance.

Geoff had the reality show couple leaning up against the green tiled wall of a pie and mash shop.

"Mikey, bung the flash cards in, show me what we've got."

Michael dutifully twisted the laptop round to show him the shots. The air was warmer that day, a hint of spring wafting tantalisingly on the light breeze, but the girl looked frozen. Her stiff expression a mixture of suppressed glee and bewilderment at her new found celebrity status. Her boyfriend, on the other hand, seemed more knowing, always turning to get the best shot, subtly edging her out of the picture.

'And from the way he keeps checking me out, she's going to be selling her 'he never told me he was gay' sob story by next week.'

Michael found himself glancing up at the windows above the chip shop on the other side of the road., his stomach lurching in sick anticipation. They had turned up at the shoot at six that morning, and he had been staring across every five minutes from the moment they arrived. He had seen lights switch on, felt his heart jump as the curtains were drawn and gazed intently at the blue door beside it, willing it to open.

"Mikey!"

"Yes, what? Sorry.."

"How can we make this silly bitch look less like a petrified sheep?"

Geoff squeezed his arm tightly and put his face very close. Michael wanted to whip out a pair of scissors and trim the prawn like bushy grey eyebrows that hovered an inch away. He purposefully took a step back, thinking;

'You could try and be a bit nicer to the poor cow and stop flirting with her boyfriend, that might help.'

"Get her a cup of tea and play some music. I'll ask her what she likes…."

As he approached the shivering figure, from the corner of his eye he saw the door besides 'Mo' Batter Blues Chip Shop' swing open. He paused, feeling frozen in time, the hubbub around him drifting into slow motion, and watched in dismay as a pregnant woman appeared, pulling a toddler behind her.

"Bollocks."

The girl twitched in alarm and grabbed her boyfriend's arm.

"What have I done? That old bloke with the camera keeps telling me different things, I'm not used to this…"

She started to sniff, and Michael waited for her boyfriend to comfort her, but he was too busy admiring his own reflection in the pie shop window.

Michael put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze.

"Don't worry, we're nearly done and you're doing fine. Think about things you like, things that make you happy."

She grinned with gratitude and Michael saw a flash of warmth returning in her eyes, making her pretty.

"Well there's Jimmy of course, I love him…"

'Well he doesn't love you..'

Michael could feel the heat of Jimmy's attention now transferred from the window to his arse.

"And me Mum, and my little sister. I haven't seen them properly for ages, they only live round the corner, but my management said they couldn't come, said they'd get in the way…"

"Are you local then?"

"Yeah."

Michael tilted the light beside them slightly, realising it had been shining into her face, making her squint.

"Is this it, Walford?"

"On no, this is just the High Street. There's a square over that way, it's got gardens, a market and a pub. We never go there much, a lot of murders down that way, and everyone's always sleeping with each other."

Michael figured if he flashed his biggest, most winning smile, his next question might not appear so mental.

"And a chippy?"

"In Turpin Road. Beale's Plaice. You get well stingy portions, if the owners serving. Nice battered sausages though."

"You think about them when we're doing the next shots. And if I were you I'd sneak off when we're done. Go and see your Mum."

* * *

Michael packed the last piece of the lights into a flight case and handed it over to Natasha, who gave a grouchy dismissive wave at his offer of assistance and dragged it to a nearby van. He sensed Geoff hovering lasciviously at his elbow, felt his hand on the small of his back, dropping dangerously lower. With a sudden movement, he managed to put some space between them.

"Mikey, dear boy.."

"It's Michael. What?"

"I wondered if you wanted to share a cab with me. I'd like to buy you lunch at the Dorchester. Got a few projects coming up that you might be interested in assisting me on.."

Michael's stomach growled alarmingly, free lunch was free lunch, and once upon a time, he might have taken Geoff up on his offer, even allowed him a little fumble.

"I'm quite busy for the next month. Got a shoot In Naples.."

Geoff's face fell.

"The Tatler one?"

Michael nodded, feeling so smug he wanted to lick himself.

"With Tatiana, yep. Anyway, thanks for the offer, but I fancy some chips. Becky told me about a chip shop near here…"

"Who's Becky?" Geoff asked, his features screwed up in confusion.

"The girl you've been taking photo's of all morning…"

Michael pinched Geoff's cheek, mentally adding 'you wanker' and headed in the direction of Albert Square.


	5. Chapter 5

The tall blonde woman put down her copy of the Walford Gazette and gave him a friendly smile.

"What can I get for you?"

"Portion of chips please."

Michael eyed the battered sausage lying limply in the heated compartment and decided against wandering around the square nibbling at it's end.

His ears strained to hear noises from the flat above over the piping strains of Kylie coming from a portable radio.

"Salt and Vinegar?"

Michael looked at her blankly.

"Sorry?"

"Your chips. Salt and Vinegar? Open or wrapped?"

"Oh, miles away. Yes, please, and open. I bet you have to ask that a lot throughout the day."

She slopped vinegar onto his chips from a plastic bottle and laughed.

"Thankfully not too much. I'm just standing in, I'm meant to be over at the pub working, but my husband wanted me to cover, someone hasn't turned up."

She took in his expensive clothes and easy handsome grace and wanted to check in the mirror to see if she had her protective hat on at an attractive angle.

"Don't suppose you want a job?"

Michael grinned and she melted at the sight of the sparkle in his cornflower blue eyes.

"I've probably had worse, but no, thank you. Do you live above the shop?"

He pointed up at the ceiling, hoping he sounded innocently conversational.

"No, not me. My brother does, with his boyfriend."

"Your brother?"

She wrapped the chips noisily.

"Yes, they're out at the moment, so it's nice and peaceful. Sometimes you can hear them, the racket they make…."

She flushed slightly and took his proffered change.

"Walking about?" Michael suggested, trying to spare her blushes and fighting down the stab of jealousy.

"That's it, walking about. Are you new to the area? Christian's a personal trainer and Syed's a masseur, if you're into fitness at all, and you look like you are, I mean... I can give you a flyer.."

She turned and searched under a pile of magazines behind her.

"No, I'm just passing, randomly….Fancied something to eat…." He trailed off, picking up his chips and making for the door, more and more aware that his behaviour could be seen as being somewhat on the creepy, stalking side.

"Oh, okay. Well, if you're ever passing again…"

"Not likely, anyway, better go. Thank you, have a good day…"

He blundered out into the street, berating himself.

'What am I doing? If he wanted to see me again, he would have called. He's with Christian now, they have lots of loud sex. Bollocks, shit, fuck."

He bit on a chip and winced as the heat burnt the inside of his cheek.

'I'll eat these and go home. I'm being a prat. I should let it go."

He wandered down the road and into the square. The afternoon sun was warm and pleasant, white clouds scudding across the sky. He balanced the paper in one hand and unzipped his jacket.

Leaning against the railings, he sucked the last of the vinegar from his fingers and screwed up the chip wrapper, stuffing it into the overflowing bin. He watched the market going on, heard the shouts of the traders, particularly enjoying the cry of "I've got the green broccoli!"

'You can get a cream for that, mate.' He tittered to himself.

Rolling a cigarette, he allowed his mind to go off at a tangent, imagining a scenario where Christian was actually holding Syed against his will, forcing him to have rampant sex at every opportunity, and that Syed was longing to be rescued, whisked off to a luxury warehouse conversion to live with a photographer called Michael.

'Ugh, I'm making myself feel scared, I'm turning into a weirdo.'

He inhaled a deep breath of smoke, clicked his Zippo lighter shut and decided to head for the tube station, hoping he could then start behaving like a rational human being. As he resolutely forced himself to leave, a familiar voice made him stop suddenly in his tracks and, in a panic, he quickly ducked down behind a laurel bush.

* * *

"But you could catch a chill."

Michael watched as Syed thrust a sweatshirt at Christian's perspiring chest. He fended it off deftly and stretched his arms out, dancing out of Syed's reach.

Michael gulped at the sight of his muscles, realising that, even if his far fetched fantasy had indeed been true, he'd have trouble freeing Syed from that embrace.

"Stop fussing. It's a beautiful day."

"It's windy, and you've had that chest infection." Syed rubbed Christian's back and looked up at him with pleading puppy dog eyes, making Michael's heart dissolve into mush.

"Give it here then, Dot Branning.."

Syed laughed and said;

"Ooh I say." in a cracked high voice.

The breeze blew a tendril of Syed's hair across his forehead, sending it flopping into one eye. Michael wanted to rush across and tenderly push it out of the way.

Christian pulled the sweatshirt over his head, and, as soon as he emerged, he tenderly pushed the stray tendril of hair from Syed's eye.

The gust caught in the striped awning above one of the market stalls behind Michael, flapping it wildly into the air like a kite. The sudden burst of movement caught Christian's attention and he glanced over.

Michael crouched down even further, cursing silently as he almost burnt himself on the crotch with the lit end of his rollup.

Christian looked, and then looked again, a visible double take. He paused for a split second of indecision, fighting against a desire to pretend he had seen nothing. Then he put his hand gently on the nape of Syed's neck and turned him slowly to face Michael's badly concealed hiding place.

"I think your old school chum is lurking in the bushes…"


	6. Chapter 6

"Chum? Have you turned into Lord Snooty? And nobody from my school lives anywhere near, so why would they be here? Oh no! You don't think it's Hakim do you? Found out where Mum and Dad live and come to give them a hard time about me? That's the last thing I need, them coming round shouting the odds. Quick, let's hide…"

Syed searched around anxiously for an escape route, stayed by Christian's restraining hand on his neck.

"If you could shut up for five seconds. For your information, Lord Snooty had pals, not chums, the only place to hide is in a bush and your friend has first option on that, your Mum and Dad can sod off, and it's the pretty boy, your 'boyfriend'…"

Syed's brow furrowed.

"Eh? You're the only boyfriend I've ever had, what are you on about?"

Michael stood up sheepishly, brushing ash from his jeans. He limply raised one hand and waggled his fingers.

"Surprise!" He bleated.

Deciding to try and tough it out, he approached them nonchalantly, using his best catwalk swagger.

"Michael?"

He watched as different emotions flitted in rapid succession across Syed's face. Bewilderment, fear and pleasure. He latched onto pleasure and held it tightly in his heart.

"Fancy seeing me here!"

He chastely kissed Syed's cheek and slapped Christian manfully on the arm, not wishing to get the bones in his hand crushed again.

Syed looked from Christian to Michael.

"I don't understand.. I mean, it's lovely, but what..?"

Michael cut in, desperate to explain his inexplicable presence convincingly.

"I've been working on a photo shoot in the High Street. I fancied some chips, took a walk and ended up here!"

'Fancied some chips? Fancied some chips?" His inward groans were almost audible.

"In a bush. There's Mo' Batter Blues in the High Street. That's a chip shop, they sell chips." Christian pointed out, unable to disguise the disbelief and hostility in his voice.

Michael stared confidently ahead, grasping onto a tiny straw of hope that he could manage to front it out, and not die of embarrassment.

"Yeah, well. Becky, the girl who was being photographed.. You know, this years winner of Prison House, said they were a bit rank, that I might find some better one's down this way.." Michael paused for breath, and to gather his thoughts;

'I'm still discussing chips, he can see right through me, I might as well be made of glass. Please strike me dead now**.'**

"..and here I am. Ta daa!"

Syed stopped standing transfixed to the spot and looked excited.

"Prison House? She fell in love in there didn't she? With that Jimmy!"

Christian smiled at him fondly.

"It's Sy's guilty pleasure. I keep telling him it'll rot his brain and that there's nothing real about reality television. That Jimmy seemed like a right little shit, obviously gay."

"Aww, don't say that! You could tell they were really into each other."

Michael didn't want to burst Syed's bubble, but thought a truth might gain him some brownie points from Christian.

"Having met them this morning, I'd say Christian's right. She's a sweetheart and he's a fame hungry whore. And one hundred per cent gay."

Christian lifted Syed's wrist and pointedly showed him the time on his watch.

"Oh, this is such a shame." Syed sighed "I've got an appointment with a new punter, so I can't be late. You should have rung.."

"You didn't leave your number.."

"We're in the phone book. Aren't we?" Syed looked to Christian for help.

"No. We're ex directory. You'll have to forgive Syed, Michael, he can be a bit vague sometimes. You should have given him your card." He pursed his lips slightly.

Michael was about to reply; 'I did,' but recalled, in time, the sneaky underhand way he had slipped it into Syed's jacket pocket as he had kissed him goodbye. The memory of the kiss hung in the gardens between two of the men, making Michael's lips tingle and moving Christian closer to Syed. He slung his arm loosely around his shoulders, flashing a warning glance.

Syed was oblivious, still smarting about having been referred to as vague. He was startled from his reverie by Michael thrusting another card at him. Syed took it gingerly, as if it might explode in his face.

He mouthed; 'I'll burn it.' to Christian, who responded with a small shake of his head.

"Perhaps you two could come over for dinner, or a party. I hold a lot of parties!" Michael laughed, turning it into a cough when nobody joined in.

Syed grinned kindly.

"Christian likes a party. I'm so sorry, Michael, I've really got to go." He picked up the case beside him and lovingly kissed Christian.

Michael backed away slowly;

"I'd better go too.."

"Stay and talk to Christian, he'll make you a cup of.. OW!" Syed rubbed the place on his arm where Christian had pinched him hard.

"No, no, lovely to see you again. Who knows, I might randomly pass this way again, or you might randomly pass my way. I'm randomly fucking off now…"

He set off, head down, in the direction of the tube station, and they watched him leave.

* * *

"Is he right in the head?" Christian asked.

"You scare him."

"Me? I'm just a pussy cat. Until some pretty boy comes stalking my man.."

Syed nudged him with his elbow.

"He's not stalking, he was just passing."

"Randomly? Yeah, and I'm the Duchess of Cornwall. It's you, you minx. He finds you irresistible. And so do I."

* * *

Michael scuttled back to the tube station, cursing his own stupidity.

'Oh well done me, that went brilliantly. First Syed spends years thinking I was someone who tried to out him for a bet, get that sorted out, all nice. But I can't leave it be. Now Christian thinks I'm a lunatic stalker, and he's probably right. And Syed thinks I'm a weirdo, obsessed with chips. I should have claimed to be writing a good chip guide. Numpty, numpty, numpty, twat."

He was so intent on giving himself a hard time that he didn't see the station guard and cannoned into him, sending his peaked cap flying onto the pavement. He retrieved it and handed it back. Flustered, he tried to enter the station, not noticing that it was barred with iron gates. He rattled at them futilely.

"Station's closed mate. Power surge, tubes not running."

Michael automatically turned on his charm. Realising quickly that it might not be enough to actually operate a whole underground line, the smile froze on his face.

"There's a bus.." The guard indicated a heaving mass of people trying to squeeze onto a single decker.

Michael rang several cab companies, all of them telling him it would be over an hour before they could get a car out to him.

'Sod it, I need a drink. I'll go in that big red one on the corner of the square. I dare say the coast will be clear. Syed'll be off working and Christian's probably dissecting my mental health with his sister..'

He pushed open the door, relishing the sweet hoppy smell, the flash of the fruit machines, Queen's 'We Are the Champions' playing quietly on the juke box.

A woman with scraped back auburn hair came forward to greet him.

"What'll you have?"

"Pint of Stella, please."

"I'll get it Tracey."

Christian was sitting in an alcove behind him..

"Back so soon?"


	7. Chapter 7

Christian had taken off the sweatshirt that Syed had forced upon him and was lounging back, one foot up on the seat, the black vest exposing the smooth muscles of his arms.

He reminded Michael of a lion, quietly basking on baked earth, casually eyeing up his prey, poised to spring.

Michael nervously put down his pint, spilling some on his hand. He shook it the drops away surreptitiously, hoping Christian hadn't noticed the further crumbling of his cool façade. Pulling up a stool, he positioned himself opposite him and smiled apologetically.

"Look, I know what this must seem like, but the tubes are fucked.."

He pulled his Iphone from the inside pocket of his jacket.

"I can get the travel updates, prove it. See, power surge.."

Christian frowned and leant forward, checking the screen.

"That's what they first claimed it was in the bombings. Was there a security announcement being played over the Tannoy? That 'would Mr. Sands please come to the operation's room' one? Sy's out there, I'd better ring him, make sure he's okay.."

He reached anxiously for the mobile on the table, just as he was about to pick it up it began to vibrate.

Scanning the screen, he exhaled with relief.

"It's him, his client's only just arrived home because of the traffic chaos, so he'll be a bit late.."

He touched the screen and it went dark. Leaning forward and resting his arms on the table, his biceps flexed, he continued;

"…and he wants to know what I want for tea. Shall I tell him you're still here?"

Michael took a sip of beer and looked up at him over the edge of the glass, causing Christian's eyes to narrow at the flash of blue.

"That's up to you…"

Christian grunted and began to tap out a message.

'Your mate old blue eyes has got himself marooned in the Vic. We're having a chat. Get back soon xxxxx ooh and lamb chops'

"That's him told. Why did you come here Michael? My brother in laws chips aren't that special."

Michael picked up a beer mat and began to twirl it between his fingers.

"I really was doing a photo shoot in the High Street, and, I dunno, it seemed serendipitous to be so near, after meeting up again at the reunion. I just thought we might bump into each other. Shit, I'm just making myself sound more like a stalker, aren't I?"

"A little bit. Has he been on your mind?"

Michael nodded.

"It was so lovely to have seen him, get the mess sorted out. And he didn't call.."

Christian studied his face, trying to work him out.

"No, he didn't. Shouldn't that have told you something? Maybe the fact that it was all okay between you, that your memories could be happy ones, was enough?"

"Not for me."

"It is for him. I don't blame you Michael, I know how he can get under your skin. But what do you expect from this? Do you want to be with him? Is he the prize that you must own? Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I'm guessing you usually get what you want. The latest gadget, the most cutting edge fashion, and then you tire of it and want the next big thing. I'm only saying this because I used to be the same. You can't own Syed, I can't own Syed. He makes his own choices. If you think he would be happier with you, I can't do anything to stop you from making a play for him."

"Arm wrestling, you'd beat me if we arm wrestled for him…"

Michael instantly wished the facetious words unsaid, but Christian laughed kindly.

"And he'd just trot off mildly with the winner? You've forgotten what he's like."

Michael fingered the scar above his lip.

"No. I'll never forget."

"Did he do that to you?"

"He pushed me off the swings. Mind you, I was larking about on top of them, rather than sitting sweetly in one. And he was provoked."

"Michael, what DID you say?" Christian raised an eyebrow.

"I said his new trainers were gay. Actually, I sort of chanted it over and over again, loudly."

"And he didn't take it as a compliment. Were you pulling his pigtails?"

Michael thought for a moment and grinned.

"I suppose I must have been, although then, I didn't even know it myself. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come, It's just I seem to have been shagging Syed clones ever since I saw him again. I'll walk up to the High Street, see if I can find a cab…" He made to stand up, but Christian touched his arm to stop him.

"Stay. Sy knows you're here now, he'll think I ran you out of town. So the Syed clones never came close to the real thing?"

"I wouldn't know the real thing, I've barely touched him."

Christian seemed to visibly relax, the atmosphere began to thaw.

" You poor thing. Sorry, but yay! I have!"

"How did you meet? He said he was prepared to risk it all for you.."

Christian's heart swelled with love.

"Did he? We met at work. He'd come back to his family after being cast out and they got him working in the family catering company. He makes a habit of being cast out, his Mother's golden boy quickly turns into their whipping boy if he dares to be his own man."

"Was it love at first sight, or did it just grow?"

"Well, something definitely grew. Did we become closer over our mutual love of Okra? Nah, I didn't really get him to start with. I would say he wasn't really my type, but I'm not sure I ever had one, male and alive were good starting points. And I did like a rich man, God, I could be a shit. We had a row and he kissed me."

Michael shifted back on his stool, surprised and deeply jealous.

"He kissed you?" He asked incredulously.

Christian tried not to look too smug, to spare Michael's feelings, but couldn't help himself.

"Mm, one nil to me I think. We'd been catering for one of his Mum's friends parties. You've met Zainab?"

"Yes, she always liked me…"

Michael realised he had unconsciously made a pathetic attempt to claw back an advantage.

"She fucking hates me, and she'd change her mind about you if she knew what you wanted to do with him. Anyway, I'd pretty much been called a perverted abomination, waited for my mate Syed to stand up for me, he didn't and seemed to think I was one. So there I was, back at the unit, chucking things about in a big queeny strop.."

"Understandably…"

"Thank you. And he strolls in, all delicious and golden, trying to make light of it, I'm still ranting, he strops off, I grab his arm and blam. The world began, I was his."

Michael saw the joy gleam in Christian's eyes.

"And you started going out?"

"That night was so special, I had never felt anything like that before. The feel of his skin, his mouth. I thought I'd been in love, but I was wrong. What I'd thought was love was just me being needy because I couldn't get what I wanted. Most of the time I was just, love me or sod off, you're clearly mental if you don't."

"It sounds beautiful."

"It was. But the next day he's telling me he's straight and it meant nothing. Bit like him running away from you in his cricket whites. I'm quite envious of you seeing him in those, I might ask him to get some."

"He told you?"

"Of course he told me. I'm his lover."

"How did you get him to admit he had feelings?"

"I didn't, he did it all by himself. Mind you, you saying you feel like a stalker, I have been known to stand forlornly under bedroom windows, so don't be too hard on yourself. I couldn't give up on him. I knew in my bones that he loved me. We've cried, God how we've cried, argued, hurt other people that got dragged into the mess…"

"Collateral damage?"

"Yes, poor cow. Until one day, he quietly picked up the key and let himself out of his cage. So, you can see, if you think you've got a chance with him, think you can love him more than I do, think you can make him love you, I won't stand back and let it happen. I can't."


	8. Chapter 8

Michael drained the last of his lager and stared glumly at the empty glass.

"Another?" Christian asked quietly.

"I don't know. I feel a bit crushed, you've arm wrestled with my head.."

"Oh, I'm sorry Michael, come on keep me company until Syed gets here, talk to him. He might tell you something different, tell you I'm a boring old bastard and he can't wait to be rid of me."

Christian called Tracey across with a cheery wave and returned with another pint for Michael and a bottle of beer for himself.

"Cheers. It's not likely though, is it? I've seen how he is with you…"

"Believe me, we're not like some perfect couple. He gets the hump if I drink too much, I get the hump with him for getting the hump with me, he doesn't like my friends, I hate his parents. And that's an ever present horribleness, them being estranged. You can see the pain in his eyes when they snub him in the street."

Michael felt sad, remembering the lively Masood household where he had always been welcome to stay for his dinner.

"I'm shocked, they were so nice whenever I was round there.."

"Well then, that's an advantage you have over me."

"The only one?"

"You're a good looking man Michael, don't pretend you don't know it. Sy said you used to be a model, were you successful?"

The further evidence that Syed had mentioned him emboldened Michael, he could sense his self esteem reviving. He grinned and narrowed his eyes.

"Not bad, it wasn't knitting patterns. Did a Hugo Boss campaign."

Christian whistled under his breath.

"Get you!"

"You done any?"

Christian wondered if this was the moment they should draw swords and battle it out, jumping off the furniture, their blades flashing.

"Little bit, when I was younger. Muscle, fitness stuff. I was incredibly unreliable, always pissed and turning up late. And I got bored…"

"It is boring, that's why I stopped. I was mostly pissed too, but luckily I don't sleep much so I managed to keep it together."

'So there.' Michael thought childishly.

Christian looked at the younger man with fond amusement.

'Now we're cock fighting! Wish Sy was here, he'd be rolling up at the two of us.'

"Where do you go out Michael?"

"Private parties, Soho, Vauxhall, everywhere…."

"I used to go to Vauxhall a lot, usually when Sy had decided that, despite what we'd been up to, it was all in my imagination that he was gay and in love with me. I'd go there to try and forget him, never worked though."

"I've been doing a bit of that recently. Which clubs? We might have been there at the same time.."

Christian laughed.

"Sy wondered that too. The Royal, for the drag acts, Hidden.."

"Fire?"

"Couple of times, last time I can hardly remember anything. My mate's Sam and Steve dragged me along to try and cheer me up after Sy's wedding. Roxy, who used to own this place until she frittered away all her money on shoes, tagged along. Apparently she was deeply, deeply, embarrassing and we got chucked out. Speak of the devil!"

The door creaked open and Michael realised it was beginning to get dark. A woman with bleached blonde hair and a bright pink coat paused in the doorway and looked him up and down, her face suffused with curiosity.

"Aye, aye, Christian. Does Syed know you're out with this lovely young man?" She shouted and Michael noticed Christian wincing as he jumped up to return her embrace.

"Rox, this is Michael, Syed's friend from school."

Michael smiled at her and lifted his glass in greeting.

"Hi!"

"Syed's friend?" He heard her hiss into Christian's ear. "Never!"

"I'm always telling you he's got hidden depths. I'll be back in a minute Michael, Roxy's going to show me something, probably.." He deftly steered the shrieking Roxy into the other side of the pub and as she was dragged, unwilling and squawking, an image awoke in Michael's mind, a memory of a sweaty dark club and the same woman being led away.


	9. Chapter 9

Michael rolled out of the party so full of champagne he feared he had become champagne, a living, breathing champagne golem.

"I'm champagne!" He told his friend Jenny.

"Of course you are Michael, and I'm knackered. Do you want to share a cab?"

He hung his arms around her neck and blew into her hair.

"I don't need cab, My fizzy power bubble pop will zoom me anywhere…"

Jenny motioned to Karl, Michael's 'boyfriend' of the last two weeks.

"Karl, sort him out, will you?"

Karl huffily wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck and pouted sourly.

"He can fuck off, he's been all over that underwear model from the Calvin Klein shoot the whole evening. I kept telling him he was straight, but oh no, apparently Michael could turn him, no one could resist the power of his mighty champagne cock. Well, I can, he's a bloody bastard…" He turned on his heel and marched off up the dark frosty street.

Jenny turned her attention back to Michael, trying to disentangle him.

"Michael, get off me. You've upset Karl…"

"Karl who? Karl Marx, Karl Pilkibum, Karl Lagerlagerlagerinafield…"

"Your boyfriend…"

Michael stood back and squinted at her.

"Am I gay?"

"Very. Honey, come home with me, I can't leave you in this state. Didn't you eat anything before you came out?"

"I ate champagne!"

He began to prance around in front of her, trying to pull off her gloves.

"Michael, pack it in. Look, the cabs here, get in, try not to look so drunk or he won't take us.."

With a heave, she managed to force him into the back seat. As she turned to slam the door, he opened the other and ran off down the street singing 'Hey Big Spender' at the top of his voice.

Jenny sighed and admitted defeat.

"Tower Bridge, please driver."

She rolled her eyes as they passed a dancing Michael, blowing copious kisses at her through the window.

* * *

With an innate inbuilt radar, that sometimes protects the intoxicated, Michael realised he was near Vauxhall, and that in Vauxhall there were clubs.

"Clubs with hot boys!" He shouted at a tramp sleeping under some cardboard.

He managed to collect himself slightly as he neared the bright entrance of Fire, practised walking in a straight line and rehearsed saying 'evening!' in a fair semblance of sobriety.

He beamed up at a burly security guard and allowed himself to be frisked.

"Tickles!" he giggled under his breath and the bouncer looked at him askance.

"Thank you mate…"

'Just walk down here, hand the nice boy your coat, remember your ticket, don't wobble, once you're in they won't notice in the dark…'

He burst triumphantly through the door and the bass thud of the Techno slapped him full in the chest

Weaving through the dancing bodies, inhaling the hot mix of sweat and eau de cologne, Michael felt as if his champagne super nova had transported him to heaven.

"Not in Heaven club though, in Fire club…."

He shimmied behind a tall blonde man to get to the bar.

"'scuse me!" The man's shorter, dark haired companion tutted as Michael squeezed past.

Michael merely pointed and shouted;

"THOR!"

The woman with them laughed.

"He's right Steve, you do look like Thor!"

"He-Man. That's what Christian calls him, where's the miserable fucker gone?"

"Onward Christian Soldiers!" Michael trilled helpfully and elbowed his way to the bar. He faintly registered the woman behind him commenting;

"Phwooaar, he's gorgeous. Are you sure all the men in here are gay?"

Michael waved a twenty pound note at the bar, demanding;

"Champers! Champers!"

Grabbing the glass ,he lurched onto the dance floor and began to gyrate in what he hoped was a seductive way, but dimly realised just looked like flailing madness. He could see the bleached girl who fancied him rushing about the room, shedding hair extensions and necking people's drinks as soon as they left them unattended. She also seemed to be trying to fondle everyone's bottom, egged on by the dark haired man.

"Keep off the arse.."

Michael's fizz was deflating, the flashing lights had started to hurt his eyes. The ache in his bladder was becoming harder and harder to ignore and he headed for the toilets.

The music was quieter in the neon lit corridor, but it was thronged with chattering couples and people making out, edging his way through, he trod on someone's foot.

"Sorry! Ooh you're tall too. That's two people I've met tonight taller than me.."

The man was leaning against the wall, perfectly still. Michael found himself mentally undressing him, wanting to free his muscles from the prison of the tight black jeans and T shirt. He was so motionless, Michael worried he might have been talking to a statue. He moved closer and went to prod him in the stomach. The man grabbed his hand before it made contact and twisted him around, slamming him back against the cold bricks of the wall. He stood over him, palms pressed either side, blocking Michael's path.

Michael gasped, knees turned to jelly and looked in the man's grey green eyes. He had never seen such heartache and pain before, it made his throat tighten in sympathy.

The man's face came nearer, inches away from his own, lips parting, hot breath on his open mouth.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Happy New Year :) xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

* * *

Michael waited, the blood thudding in his cock, every sinew screaming for the man's touch. It seemed as if time had ended.

And then he felt a small splash of water on his tongue. He opened his eyes and tried to bring the man's features into focus, saw the track of a single tear on his cheek.

The man slowly pushed himself back away from the wall, wiping his face, childlike, with the side of his hand.

Michael thought he heard him say 'sorry.'

And he was gone, banging through the doors into the club, the music swelling and fading, leaving Michael gasping and helpless with frustration.

He pulled himself together and staggered in the man's wake, futilely calling "Come back!"

His way was barred by two bouncer's dragging the blonde woman off the dance floor, her companion's trailing behind, both helplessly creased up with laughter.

"Well, that's weird!" Michael remarked to the person next to him, a boy with curly hair.

"If you think that's weird, you should see my bollocks!"

Michael laughed, thinking; 'what the hell!'

"Go on then…."

* * *

A group of laughing girls burst into the pub, thrusting Michael into the present.

'Shit!' The realisation made him want to weep.

'He didn't say sorry, he said Syed.'

* * *

Christian reappeared, exchanging a joke with the girls at the bar and bearing fresh drinks. He manoeuvred them onto the table.

"Sy should be here soon, so I've got him an orange juice. I keep telling him other fruit juices are available. Still, maybe all that vitamin C is why his skin's so lovely. Sorry about that, Roxy's alright but she can be a bit of a pain. I thought I was going to have to tell her you had an incredibly contagious disease, in the end I said you'd got a hideous genital deformity, and she must never mention it. She wouldn't be able to manage that. I've done you a favour, she would have wanted to be your new best friend forever until something better turned up…Michael? Are you okay? I didn't really say that, she had to go and pick up Amy, her daughter. You look like you've seen a ghost…"

Christian slid round into his seat and studied Michael with concern.

Michael lifted tear filled eyes to meet his.

"You really love him, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes I do. But don't cry, you'll start me off.."

A sudden blast of cool night air made them both look up.

"Oh dear, you both look sad. What's going on? Sorry I'm late, it's still mayhem out there."

Syed took off his leather jacket and squeezed in next to Christian, thirstily taking a sip of orange juice.

"Hello darling. How did it go?"

"Good, she was really pleased, and it seemed to help with some of her stiffness. Shut up Christian.."

Christian closed his mouth with a click of his teeth and looked the picture of innocence.

"What? You've got a dirty mind Masood. See what I have to put up with Michael?"

Michael smiled.

"Yes, the pair of you, I can see it all now."

Syed glanced at Christian.

"Shall we ask Michael to join us?"

Christian's eyebrows rose so high they almost disappeared into his hair and Michael wriggled on his stool, pulling his T shirt down to cover his instant erection.

Syed looked to each of them in confusion and embarrassment.

"I mean for dinner. Bloody hell, you're a filth bucket Christian. We could probably make the chops stretch.."

"How do you stretch a chop?" Christian giggled.

Michael, his composure recovered from the brief fantasy, offered;

"On a chop rack?"

"Ha ha! Or me and Christian could hold an end each and run very quickly in opposite directions."

"Tug of chop…No, thank you. It's been a long day and Christian must be sick of me by now.."

Christian patted his hand.

"You've kept me company. It's been good."

Michael smiled gratefully.

"Yes, yes. It has." He drained the last of his pint and stood up.

They hugged him together and he felt the warmth of their mutual love gladdening his heart.

As the door closed behind Michael, Christian kissed Syed for a long time.

"Smoochy!" said Syed as he came up for air. "You wouldn't really, you know, want a threesome…"

Christian smoothed away the worry line on Syed's forehead with his thumb.

"He'd get in the way. You don't want that do you?"

Syed looked shocked.

"Ugh no. See him touch you? The idea fills me with no desire at all, just horror."

"Me too, I'd probably throw stuff, him, out of the window, bless his heart. I suppose he could feed us grapes.."

"Hose us down at half time…"

They turned to each other and laughed, saying simultaneously;

"Nah…"

"Do you ever wonder though, if in a parallel universe, you might have ended up with him?" Christian mused.

"I don't believe in them.."

"But, if you did.."

Syed took an ice cube from his glass and licked it before putting it against the hollow in Christian's throat.

"In any number of infinite worlds and universes, some how, some way, we would always find each other."

* * *

Out on the street, Michael hailed a cab. He considered going back to his flat, but the solitude didn't appeal to him.

'Besides..' He thought. "The night is young and so am I.."

"Vauxhall please!" He told the driver and settled back against the leather seat. 'Tonight..' He decided, 'I'm going for a red haired boy with muscles….'

Hugging himself tight with the warm thought that all things were possible if you wanted them enough, soul mates could find each other, love could last.


End file.
